Cameron of Lochiel
That nursed her tender age;
But leave the window wide
And, presto! she's outside
And off on eager wing
To mate and sing."
They chaffed Elise a good deal, who, like all prudes, took their
pleasantries with rather a bad grace, seeing which, Madame D'Haberville
gave the signal, and the company arose and went into the drawing-room.
Elise, as she was passing Jules, gave him a pinch that nearly brought
the blood.
"Come, my fair one, whose claws are so sharp," exclaimed Jules, "is
this such a caress as you destined for your future spouse, this which
you are now bestowing on one of your best friends? Happy spouse! May
Heaven keep much joy for him at the last!"
After the coffee and the customary _pousse-café_ the company went out
into the court-yard to dance country dances and to play fox and geese
and my lady's toilet. Nothing could be more picturesque than this
latter game, played in the open air in a yard studded with trees. The
players took their places each under a tree. One only remained in the
open. Each furnished his or her contribution to my lady's toilet--one
being her dress, another her necklace, another her ring, and so forth.
It was the office of one of the players to direct the game. As soon
as he called for one of these articles the one representing this
article was obliged at once to leave his post, which was promptly taken
possession of by another. Then, as the different articles of my lady's
toilet were called for rapidly, a lively interchange of positions
was set up between the players, the one left out in the first place
striving to capture any post that might be left for an instant vacant.
This merry game was continued until my lady considered her toilet
complete. Then, on the cry, "My lady wants all her toilet," all the
players change places with alacrity, and the one who was left out had
to pay a forfeit. It is not to be supposed that this game was conducted
without a vast deal of laughter and clamor and ludicrous mishaps.
When the ladies were tired the party went into the house to amuse
themselves less vigorously with such games as "does the company please
you," or "hide the ring," "shepherdess," or "hide and seek," or "hot
cockles," etc. They ended up with a game proposed by Jules, which was
ordinarily productive of much laughter.
The early Canadians, though redoubtable warriors on the battle-field,
were thorough children in their social gatherings. Being nearly all
kinsfolk or friends of long standing, many of their games which in
these days might be regarded in the best circles as overfamiliar were
robbed of the objectionable element. The stranger would have said that
they were a lot of brothers and sisters letting their spirits have free
play within the privacy of the family.
It was not without deliberate purpose that Jules, who still felt the
pinch Elise had given him, proposed a game by which he hoped to get
his revenge. This is the game: A lady seated in an arm-chair begins by
choosing some one as her daughter. Her eyes are then blindfolded, and,
by merely feeling the faces of the players, who kneel before her one by
one, with their heads enveloped in a shawl or scarf, she is required to
pick out her daughter. Every time she makes a mistake she has to pay a
forfeit. It is often a man or an old woman who kneels before her thus
disguised, whence arises many a laughable mistake.
When it came the turn of Elise to take the arm-chair, she did not fail
to select Jules for her daughter, with the purpose of tormenting him a
little during the inspection. As each person knelt at the feet of the
blindfolded lady, all the others sang in chorus:
"Oh, lady, say, is this your daughter?
Oh, lady, say, is this your daughter?
In buckles of gold and rings galore,
The watermen bold are at the oar."
The blindfolded lady responds in the same fashion:
"Oh, yes, it is, it is my daughter, etc."
Or else:
"Oh, no, it is not, it is not my daughter;
Oh, no, it is not, it is not my daughter.
In buckles of gold and rings galore,
The watermen bold are at the oar."
After having inspected several heads, Elise, hearing under the shawl
the stifled laughter of Jules, imagined she had grasped her prey. She
feels his head. It is not unlike that of Jules. The face, indeed,
seems a trifle long, but this rascally Jules has so many tricks for
disguising himself! Did he not mystify the company for a whole evening,
having been introduced as an old aunt just arrived that very day from
France? Under this disguise, did he not have the audacity to kiss all
the pretty women in the room, including Elise herself? The wretch! Yes,
Jules is capable of anything! Under this impression she pinches an ear.
There is a cry of pain and a low growl, followed by a loud barking. She
snatches the bandage from her eyes, to find herself confronted with two
rows of threatening teeth. It was Niger. Just as at the house of Farmer
Dinmont, of whom Scott tell us, all the dogs were named Pepper, so at
the D'Haberville mansion all the dogs were called Niger or Nigra, in
memory of their ancestor, whom the little Jules had named to show his
progress in Latin.
Elise at once snatched off her high-heeled shoe, and made an attack on
Jules. The latter held poor Niger as a shield, and ran from room to
room, the girl following him hotly amid roars of laughter.
Oh, happy time when lightness of heart made wit unnecessary! Oh, happy
time when the warmth of welcome made superfluous the luxury which
these ruined Canadians were learning to do without! The houses, like
the hearts of their owners, seemed able to enlarge themselves to meet
every possible demand of hospitality. Sleeping-places were improvised
upon the slightest occasion; and when once the ladies were comfortably
provided for the sterner sex found no difficulty in shifting for
themselves. These men, who had passed half their life in camp during
the harshest seasons; who had journeyed four or five leagues on
snow-shoes, resting by night in holes which they dug in the snow (as
they did when they went to attack the English in Acadia), these men of
iron could do without swan's-down coverlets to their couches.
The merry-making paused only for sleep, and was renewed in all its
vigor in the morning. As every one then wore powder, the more skillful
would undertake the _rôle_ of hairdresser, or even of barber. The
subject, arrayed in an ample dressing-gown, seated himself gravely in a
chair. The impromptu hairdresser rarely failed to heighten the effect
of his achievement, either by tracing with the powder puff an immense
pair of whiskers on those who lacked such adornment, or, in the case of
those who were already provided, by making one side a great deal longer
than the other. The victim frequently was made aware of his plight only
by the peals of laughter which greeted him on entering the drawing-room.
The party broke up at the end of three days, in spite of the efforts
of M. and Madame D'Haberville to keep them longer. Archie alone, who
had promised to spend a month with his old friends, kept his word and
remained.
CHAPTER XVII.
CONCLUSION.
Ainsi passe sur la terre tout ce qui fut bon, vertueux, sensible!
Homme, tu n'es qu'un songe rapide, un rêve douloureux; tu n'existes que
par le malheur; tu n'es quelque chose que par la tristesse de ton âme et
l'eternelle mélancolie de ta pensée!--_Chateaubriand._
After the departure of the guests the family fell back into the sweet
intimacy of former days. Jules, whom his native air had restored to
health, passed the greater part of the day in hunting with Archie.
The abundance of game at that season made the pastime very agreeable.
They took supper at seven, they went to bed at ten, and the evenings
seemed all too short even without the help of cards. Jules, who was
ignorant of what had passed between his sister and Archie, could not
but be struck with his friend's unusual sadness, of which, however, he
failed to guess the cause. To all questions on the subject he received
an evasive answer. Finally, imagining that he had found the root of
the difficulty, one evening when they were alone together he put the
question directly.
"I have noticed, my brother," said he, "the sadness which you endeavor
to conceal from us. You are unjust to us, Archie, you do yourself an
injustice. You should not brood over the past. In saving the lives
which would otherwise have been lost in the shipwreck of the Auguste,
you have done my family a service which more than compensates for what
took place before. It is we now who owe you a debt of gratitude which
can never be repaid. It was very natural that, prejudiced by report
and for the moment forgetful of your noble heart, even such friends as
we, imbittered by our losses, should lend an ear to calumnies against
you; but you know that a simple explanation was enough to re-cement
our old friendship. If my father bore his grudge for a long time, you
know his nature and must make allowance for it. He feels now all his
old affection for you. Our losses have been in great part repaired,
and we live more tranquilly under the British Government than we did
under the rule of France. Our _habitants_ have followed the example of
Cincinnatus, as Uncle Raoul would say, and exchanged the musket for
the plow-share. They are opening up new land, and in a few years this
_seigneurie_ will be in a most prosperous condition. With the help of
the little legacy which I lately received, we shall soon be as rich
as we were before the conquest. Therefore, my dear Archie, drive away
this gloom which is making us all miserable and resume thy former
lightheartedness."
Lochiel was silent for some time, and only answered after a painful
effort.
"Impossible, my brother. The wound is more recent than you imagine and
will bleed all my life, for all my hopes are destroyed. But let us
leave the subject; for I have already been wounded in my tenderest and
purest emotions, and an unsympathetic word from you would finish me."
"An unsympathetic word from my lips, do you say, Archie? What can you
mean by that? The friend whom I have sometimes vexed with my raillery
knows very well what my heart is toward him, and that I was always
ready to crave his pardon. You shake your head sadly! Great heaven,
what is the matter? What is there that you can not confide to your
brother, the friend of your boyhood? Never have I had anything to
conceal from you. My thoughts were as open to you as your own, and I
had imagined that you were as frank with me. A curse upon whatever has
been able to come between us!"
"Stop, Jules, stop," cried Archie. "However painful my confidences
may be to you, I must tell you all rather than let you harbor such
a cruel suspicion. I am going to open my heart to you, but on the
express condition that you shall hear me uninterruptedly to the end,
as an impartial judge. Not till to-morrow will we return to this sore
subject. Meanwhile, promise to keep the secret that I am going to
confide to you."
"I give you my word," said Jules, grasping his hand.
Thereupon Lochiel recounted minutely the conversation that he had had
with Blanche. As soon as he came to an end he lit a candle and withdrew
to his own room.
As for Jules, he stormed within himself all night. Having studied women
only in the _salons_ of St. Germain, his vigorous common sense could
ill appreciate the sublimity that there was in the sacrifice which his
sister was imposing upon herself. Such sentiments appeared to him mere
romantic and exaggerated nonsense, or the product of an imagination
rendered morbid by calamity. With his heart set upon an alliance which
would gratify his dearest wishes, he resolved that, with the consent of
Archie, he would have a very serious conversation with Blanche, from